Chapter 5.

{195} THEY had by this time strolled as far
as Carlton's lodgings, where the books happened to be on which Charles
was at that time more immediately employed; and they took two or three
turns under some fine beeches which stood in front of the house before
entering it.

"Tell me, Reding," said Carlton, "for really I don't
understand, what are your reasons for admiring what, in truth, is
simply an unnatural state."

It was evident that there was some strong feeling irritating him
inwardly; the manner and words were too serious for the occasion.
Carlton, too, felt strongly upon what seemed at first sight a very
secondary question, or he would have let it alone, as Charles asked
him.

"No; as we are on the subject, let me get at your view,"
said he. "It was said in the beginning, 'Increase and multiply';
therefore celibacy is unnatural."

"Supernatural," said Charles, smiling. {196}

"Is not that a word without an idea?" asked Carlton.
"We are taught by Butler that there is an analogy between nature
and grace; else you might parallel paganism to nature, and, where
paganism is contrary to nature, say that it is supernatural. The
Wesleyan convulsions are preternatural; why not supernatural?"

"I really think that our divines, or at least some of them,
are on my side here," said Charles—"Jeremy Taylor, I
believe."

"You have not told me what you mean by supernatural,"
said Carlton; "I want to get at what you think, you know."

"It seems to me," said Charles, "that Christianity,
being the perfection of nature, is both like it and unlike it;—like
it, where it is the same or as much as nature; unlike it, where it is
as much and more. I mean by supernatural the perfection of
nature."

"Give me an instance," said Carlton.

"Why, consider, Carlton; our Lord says, 'Ye have heard that it
has been said of old time,—but I say unto you': that contrast
denotes the more perfect way, or the gospel ... He came not to
destroy, but to fulfil the law ... I can't recollect of a sudden …
oh, for instance, this is a case in point; He abolished a
permission which had been given to the Jews because of the hardness of
their hearts."

"Not quite in point," said Carlton, "for the Jews,
in their divorces, had fallen below nature. 'Let no man put
asunder,' was the rule in Paradise."

"Still, surely the idea of an Apostle, unmarried, {197} pure,
in fast and nakedness, and at length a martyr, is a higher idea than
that of one of the old Israelites sitting under his vine and fig-tree,
full of temporal goods, and surrounded by sons and grandsons. I am not
derogating from Gideon or Caleb; I am adding to St. Paul."

"St. Paul's is a very particular case," said Carlton.

"But he himself lays down the general maxim, that it is 'good'
for a man to continue as he was."

"There we come to a question of criticism, what 'good' means:
I may think it means 'expedient,' and what he says about the 'present
distress' confirms it."

"Well, I won't go to criticism," said Charles; "take
the text, 'In sin hath my mother conceived me'. Do not these words
show that, over and above the doctrine of original sin, there is (to
say the least) great risk of marriage leading to sin in married
people?"

"Not knowingly or willingly," answered Charles; "but
understand what I mean. It's not a subject I can talk about; but it
seems to me, without of course saying that married persons must sin
(which would be Gnosticism), that there is a danger of sin. But don't
let me say more on this point."

"Well," said Carlton, after thinking awhile, "I
have been accustomed to consider Christianity as the perfection of man
as a whole, body, soul, and spirit. Don't misunderstand me. Pantheists
say body and intellect, leaving out the moral principle; but I say
{198} spirit as well as mind. Spirit, or the principle of religious
faith and obedience, should be the master principle, the hegemonicon.
To this both intellect and body are subservient; but as this supremacy
does not imply the ill-usage, the bondage of the intellect, neither
does it of the body; both should be well treated."

"Well, I think, on the contrary, it does imply in one sense
the bondage of intellect and body too. What is faith but the
submission of the intellect? and as 'every high thought is brought
into captivity,' so are we expressly told to bring the body into
subjection too. They are both well treated, when they are treated so
as to be made fit instruments of the sovereign principle."

"That is what I call unnatural," said Carlton.

"And it is what I mean by supernatural," answered Reding,
getting a little too earnest.

"How is it supernatural, or adding to nature, to destroy a
part of it?" asked Carlton.

Charles was puzzled. It was a way, he said, towards
perfection; but he thought that perfection came after death, not here.
Our nature could not be perfect with a corruptible body; the body was
treated now as a body of death.

"Well, Reding," answered Carlton, "you make
Christianity a very different religion from what our Church considers
it, I really think"; and he paused awhile.

"Look here," he proceeded, "how can we rejoice in
Christ, as having been redeemed by Him, if we are in {199} this sort
of gloomy penitential state? How much is said in St. Paul about peace,
thanksgiving, assurance, comfort, and the like! Old things are passed
away; the Jewish law is destroyed; pardon and peace are come; that is
the Gospel."

"Don't you think, then," said Charles, "that we
should grieve for the sins into which we are daily betrayed, and for
the more serious offences which from time to time we may have
committed?"

"Certainly; we do so in Morning and Evening Prayer, and in the
Communion Service."

"Well, but supposing a youth, as is so often the case, has
neglected religion altogether, and has a whole load of sins, and very
heinous ones, all upon him—do you think that, when he turns over a
new leaf, and comes to Communion, he is, on saying the Confession
(saying it with that contrition with which such persons ought to say
it), pardoned at once, and has nothing more to fear about his past
sins?"

"I should say, 'Yes,'" answered Carlton.

"Really," said Charles thoughtfully.

"Of course," said Carlton, "I suppose him truly
sorry or penitent: whether he is so or not his future life will
show."

"Well, somehow, I cannot master this idea," said Charles;
"I think most serious persons, even for a little sin, would go on
fidgeting themselves, and would not suppose they gained pardon
directly they asked for it."

"Certainly," answered Carlton; "but God pardons
those who do not pardon themselves." {200}

"That is," said Charles, "who don't at once
feel peace, assurance, and comfort; who don't feel the perfect
joy of the Gospel."

"Such persons grieve, but rejoice too," said Carlton.

"But tell me, Carlton," said Reding, "is, or is not,
their not forgiving themselves, their sorrow and trouble, pleasing to
God?"

"Surely."

"Thus a certain self-infliction for sin committed is pleasing
to Him; and, if so, how does it matter whether it is inflicted on mind
or body?"

"It is not properly a self-infliction," answered Carlton;
"self-infliction implies intention; grief at sin is something
spontaneous. When you afflict yourself on purpose, then at once you
pass from pure Christianity."

"Well," said Charles, "I certainly fancied that
fasting, abstinence, labours, celibacy, might be taken as a make-up
for sin. It is not a very far-fetched idea. You recollect Dr. Johnson's
standing in the rain in the market-place at Lichfield when a man, as a
penance for some disobedience to his father when a boy?"

"But, my dear Reding," said Carlton, "let me bring
you back to what you said originally, and to my answer to you, which
what you now say only makes more apposite. You began by saying that
celibacy was a perfection of nature, now you make it a penance; first
it is good and glorious, next it is a medicine and punishment."

"Perhaps our highest perfection here is penance," said
Charles; "but I don't know; I don't profess to {201} have clear
ideas upon the subject. I have talked more than I like. Let us at
length give over."

They did, in consequence, pass to other subjects connected with
Charles's reading; then they entered the house, and set to upon
Polybius; but it could not be denied that for the rest of the day
Carlton's manner was not quite his own, as if something had annoyed
him. Next morning he was as usual.